It’s my birthday today so that means I’m bouta start posting normally lolololol anyway stuff my broiling gut to the brim and cram my gullet full of yummy foods until I pass out
it was never something I’d hide from you during the day. I was only concerned with letting you sleep.
usually when I turn in for the night, I’m pretty satisfied. oversatisfied, if you have anything to say about it. but tonight, long after we’d both fallen asleep curled into each other, I’ve been torn from sleep by hunger. a craving, really, but I’ve been pampered enough to believe the two are more or less the same.
I wanted ice cream.
I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. thick…sweet…cold…calorie-dense… I could even pop it in the microwave for a few seconds - take it out just before the beep, eliminate both that and the sound of me rustling through the drawer for a spoon… a few swallows to satiate myself, then back to bed before you know I’m gone.
of course that’s not how it went. the carton wasn’t even that full - I thought it’d be better off emptied and tossed in the trash. I was planning on having some anyway. why not have it all?
which is exactly why I lumbered into bed the way I did — short of breath, stifling hiccups and shallow belches, trying not to move in any way that put extra pressure on me.
so of course you roused. honestly, I should’ve known you’re attuned to all my stuffed-full sounds by now.
you shifted to open up some space next to you, patting the mattress.
“aww, honey,” you murmured, voice thick and rough with sleep, “did we not feed you enough at dinner?”
I shook my head and buried my face against your chest. I ate enough, I told you. I just wanted- more.
warmth bloomed at my middle, your hand coming to rest against the side of my belly. “think it might be more of a need than a want, honey. you’ve grown so nicely.”
I couldn’t hold back a whine as you started to knead. lower belly full of a half-digested dinner, upper belly full of melted ice cream, all of it shifting and trying to yield under your pressure.
“don’t be shy,” you cooed, kissing my forehead. “a body like yours needs a little extra fuel, huh?”
sleep was already beginning to blur my vision, eyelids nearly as heavy as my stomach. you made sure I heard one last thing before my body gave in to the comfort inside and all around me:
“next time, wake me up, too. I can fill you up better than this.”
stuffing them so nice and full they can’t help but slip into a food coma. promising you’ll take such good care of them while they rest - after all, they worked so hard, didn’t they? they’ll feel so much better after a good nap. but then, of course, they just look so plush, so comfy and beautiful…you can’t help yourself. you need to reach out and touch. grab. squeeze, knead, bounce — your sweet, sleepy doughball. you’re even able to work some air out of them, burps slipping out unhindered by shame or etiquette…or wakefulness.
now that they’ve made some room, they look like they could use a snack.
you gently jostle them awake, holding a treat near their mouth. “hi, baby. here - just one more bite,” you murmur, knowing they’re too sleepy to protest. you press it past their lips, stroking their cheek as they chew, and the moment they swallow you coax them back to sleep.
it’s even easier than you thought.
so you start the cycle over: worshipping their body, mouthing at their chest, grinding against their thighs and tummy, diving between their legs, reaping the rewards of their indulgence for them…careful not to send them over the edge. not yet. if they start to wake up from an overeager bounce of their belly or too sharp a nip at their rolls? well, that just means it’s time for another treat~
a dizzyingly delicious cycle, so easy to get lost in. feeding them up even fuller than they started — and they’re just too deep in dreamland to keep track of how many “one more bite”s they’ve had. by the time they wake up for real, they’re packed to the brim, so full they can’t even roll over…and they barely know why. even more, they’re so riled up from however long you spent gorging yourself on them, it’s all they can do to beg you for help. so stuffed they can’t move, so turned on they can’t focus, and completely at your mercy.
you did promise they’d feel better once they woke up, didn’t you?
imagining how amazing it’d be to spend a whole day or maybe even weekend just getting stuffed nonstop by someone and kept high and full and just totally blissed out. like hear me out, being fed edibles at first before being fed absolutely obscene amounts of super rich and heavy foods, takeout from my favorite places, rich and creamy desserts, being funnel fed soda or cream, like the options are endless but just the whole day spent gorging and smoking till i’m at my limit, taking a break and as soon as there’s any more room i’m eating again till i can barely move with a massively overfed and overstretched belly. spending the evenings having my belly rubbed as it gurgles and churns as it struggles to digest everything i’ve crammed into it 😵💫🥵
You can feel them curled in your belly, still wriggling, still fighting. And as you lean back on the couch, one hand lazily draped over the dome of your stuffed stomach, a familiar, primal emotion unfurls in you like a lion stretching its great paws, basked in the afternoon sun.
Satisfaction
You rub slow circles over your taut middle, fingers pressing possessively against the swell. Your prey squirms, and your stomach growls like a beast
You give your belly a gentle pat, a smug burp slipping past your lips. It feels good. It feels right. You stretch, legs straightening, your whole body weighted and warm.
last night i finished another vid doing audio mixing for @fangusfungs amazing gif~just dabi rubbing his bulging tummy and coaxing up as many burps as he can to feel anything resembling relief x3
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